A Modern Connundrum

I once lived next door to a very sweet middle aged woman who was endlessly cheerful, mainlined chintz and had two cats who she treated like poorly children. Our relationship was on a shallow, polite smiles n the occasional 30 second chat level. It suited me because I generally despise people. She seemed content and had a Daily Mail lifestyle without the open fascism. One Friday she knocked and was clearly agitated. She had to go away for a few nights and could I feed the cats. I of course obliged because she needed a favour and I love cats. She gave me the key, thanked me profusely and unnecessarily and left.
That weekend, I went about my business and popped round to feed the kitties a couple of times a day. She rang to tell me she would be back Monday and I reassured her I would feed them Sunday night. On Sunday, after a few beers with friends, I let myself in and was confronted with a quandary I have battled with ever since. In the hall, in half darkness, I saw what looked like a dead bird. I went to investigate and found that I was wrong. It was a pink vibrator. Presumably, it was her vibrator. I laughed nervously and realised that the cats had probably found it and played with it. Cats are perverse bastards and had obviously been batting it round the house. It was shiny and it rolled when you hit it with your paw. I fed them and went to retrieve it but stopped and froze as the dilemma hit me.
I didn’t have a clue where to put it, I mean its hiding place I know where they go, and I couldn’t just leave it as she would be mortified.
I went home n called various friends and created a ‘rogue sex toy steering committee”. Eventually my mates wife suggested it was probably kept under the bed so I returned and placed it there. I was clearly wrong.
She came back the next day and I knew I was in the dog house when she sent her sister to collect the key. A frosty silence ensued for months and I stayed in the house when she was outside. Eventually, I bumped into her at the local shop. She smiled weakly and just stared at me. I was silent for a while then opened the gob which has blighted my very existence. The born in Liverpool, say it if its in your head that has ruined much of my life ‘ it was the cats’. Her face set and she quietly said ‘ it was the cats who rooted through my personal items’. I should have left it there but I never have done. ‘ They thought it was a toy. Well it is but not that sort .I thought it was a dead bird not that you’d put a dead bird errr. My friends wife said’ then I stopped because she went a strange colour. ‘ You told your friends wife !’. ‘ No, my friend told her”. She looked like she was going to pass out. I mentally regrouped and asked if she knew where the mustard was. She said ‘I have a gentleman friend’ left her trolley and walked out. We were never close after that. When I left she walked out her house and pointedly turned her back. People who know me won’t be surprised. I could find grief in an empty room. To this day it remains the unwinnable conundrum. I know because I got it wrong. I have no idea why she mentioned her gentleman friend but I did find the mustard without her help.

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